


Forgiveness

by muutant (tricyclops)



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Dragon Age 2 - Freeform, F/M, Post-Game, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricyclops/pseuds/muutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you can't let go of the one you love, the one who betrayed you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic and was never betaed, so there are probably a few grammar issues and such. Sorry about that!

For a long time all they did was walk. They walked for weeks. Sometimes it felt like months. But that was all she wanted to do. She wanted to get away, she would've run if she had had the strength. Hawke  _was_ strong, she felled a hundred men, she felled ogres, but she no longer  _felt_  strong. Every step she took she could feel the weight, the weight of everything falling, crashing down on her, crashing down on the world as it quaked with change. And Anders...

How could she stay strong after what she had done, after what he had  _made_  her do. Thinking back on that day, that light, it burned her eyes. The intensity could've blinded her, blinded them all, but her eyes were left unscathed, but as for the rest of her, there truly was not much left. Watching her love just sitting there, waiting for his death, beckoning for her to bring it to him, accepting that Justice must be served.

Martyr means nothing if you still breathe.

_No._ She had to shut it out. Forget it ever happened. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't. She couldn't bear to think of it, the almost peaceful look on his face, willing to accept death, ready to take the plunge into the abyss.

But, he was there now, following her, and that is all that mattered.

What he had done drained her, nearly broke her, but the fact that she knew it had to be done was even worse. Sometimes you simply have to jump into the abyss, no matter how far the fall. But how could he have not told her? Why betray her trust then? Why lie to her? Why even love her in the first place if all he planned to do was break her heart? But her heart could not let go of him so easily. Not even with what all he had done, with all that he was, if any of him was really left at all between his hatred and Vengeance.

They warned her,  _he_ warned her, not to get too close, to be wary of the "possessed" mage. They may have been right, but it was too late now. All warnings vanished the day he seized her his lips, pushed to the brink of madness by temptation, and the taste of him was intoxicating. The hunger of his kiss demanded relief to the ache he had suffered all those years. After that she was his. Anders was just like her, it seemed. How could she have kept away? She would do anything to keep her lover from harm, to keep him from the clutches of the bloody Templars, they would not have him. Blessed by magic, and cursed to live out their days in fear. Cursed to be hunted and hated, cursed to be feared. They could take solace in the safety of each others embrace and the unquestioned trust between them. And they did not fear each other. Then she did not realize he was something to be feared, a sheer relentless force of Vengeance. Now she knew. She knew, but didn't care.

Now they ran, hated more than ever, fugitives, denied the freedom that they had sacrificed everything for and fought so hard to forge. However, the unquestioned bond between them was clearly fragile. Anger and confusion clouded all Hawke's affections for the man, after what Anders' had done they became hidden and out of reach. Being able to dig them out again would not be easy, and they both knew that. The promise that bound them together now, that she would run with him, was the only glimmer left of what the two had once shared. And the fact that she kept it was the only thing that gave away that, in some way, she must still love him.

Their journey took them far away. Far away from Kirkwall, even further away from Fereldan. She no longer knew, or cared, where they were. Only that they were far away. In those first weeks, she never spoke. Not a word. What could she say? All her thoughts contradicted themselves now, she questioned her every thought, every decision. She questioned every step she toke, every breath she made after that day. How could she even begin to form a sentence, let alone allow it to leave her lips unquestioned?

But Anders spoke, and she didn't mind. The silence could be deafening at times, and his voice was an escape. The sound of his voice was gentle, kind and strong, she could feel his need to protect her, to keep them safe no matter what the cost just by listening to the sound of his voice.

He spoke of mages at first, but now that his duty to Justice was done it seemed that even  _he_  got tired of constant talk of mages. He mostly spoke of the past and their time together, even though their relationship had been so laced with tragedy and heartbreak he still remembered every happy moment, recalling the times in which they were simply happy in astonishing detail. It was as if he kept them in a bottle that he would never dare let break.

His voice comforted her most when he spoke of freedom. The words flowing from his soft lips like an old song.

"One day we won't have to walk through all this mud and dirt, or in the back alleys. We won't have to hide in the shadows. We will walk through the streets without fear, alongside women, children, and mages alike, and know that we were the ones who made it so. You deserve to stand in the light, Hawke. A face like yours should never be hidden by shadows. It is a waste of beauty."

Anders longed to caress her face in that moment, he missed the feel of her, the warmth of her skin against his hands. Her hair was flowing in the breeze, brushing her cheeks and resting on her skin. Anders had brushed her hair from her eyes and stroked it gently for so many years. He never knew just how valuable the privilege to touch her was, he took that privilege for granted for years and he longed for it now. She could sense his aching gaze, but Hawke continued to stride ahead. As always.

"You will be called Champion once again, and I will be at your side. Always." He gave her a gentle smile, and she saw a glint of true hope in his eyes.

"We will reclaim your estate, and live out our days, together, as we had planned. Together, until the day we die."

He often mused of the future this way, Hawke didn't know whether there was any truth in this or not. Either way his optimism, was welcome and refreshing. It was a part of him that she hadn't seen in years, part of him that she thought had been lost forever, save her memories. When she first met him he still had some cheer left in him, but the sadness in his soft amber eyes was clear, but he still seemed capable to keep control of the pain, and the anger. To keep control of Vengeance.

Then, Anders' wit was as quick as his temper. But in those last few years in Kirkwall, Anders was full of grief and anger, tortured by the struggle within him driving him deeper and deeper into madness. Paranoia plagued his mind and he could barely keep hold of his sanity, every day losing more of himself. Even at his best you could still see the pain burning in his eyes and hear the struggle in his voice. In that time, it seemed that there was no joy left in him, save his love for her. And even his love seemed distant, sometimes even fading.

Now, he followed her without question, and she could feel his love for her burning with every gaze of her he stole. Burning like a wild fire, out of control. Maybe even stronger than before, but it was a silent need, one that she wasn't ready to answer. She gave him no reason to believe that she still loved him, or even cared at all for him, only that she would let him follow her and that was enough. Hawke gave no reassurances that they would truly stay together till the end, as Anders mused about so often. Anders very well knew that one day he may wake up and she would simply be gone, leaving only a trail of memories behind her.

If Anders' recovery from the brink of madness was any proof, it seemed that fulfilling Justice's wants really had given him the freedom he truly desired. Vengeance was appeased. And if this meant that the man, who she met so many years ago and thought would only live again in her memories, laughed again, she was content.

* * *

Lost in thought and tired from exhaustion, Hawke mindlessly stumbled over a stone, but before she could even touch the ground, Anders was there to catch her, enveloping her. For a second, their eyes met. She had not looked him in the eye for weeks, and had not felt his touch for longer. The gaze burned, and he grasped Hawke to him tight, terrified to let the moment pass. Terrified that this may be the last time she would let him touch her, the last time he would feel her against him.

It truly was as if the Fade itself lived and burned inside him. Maker he was warm, and she almost lost herself again, there, in that moment, in the comfort of his arms. Anders could feel her begin to give in to him, he could see the softness in her eyes, and the pain, she was ready to relent. But before she could, Hawke hastily tore herself from his gaze and recoiled from his touch, leaving the warmth of his arms, and leaving him to return to the cold night.

"Be careful, Hawke. If you insist we walk all day and night I can't be wasting my energy on healing stubbed toes." He laughed. Next to healing, masking his emotions with humor was one of his greatest talents,

It was astonishing that he could bring himself to laugh even though she had been so bitterly cold to him. Refusing to speak to him, never daring to reach out for his touch. Recoiling anytime he even came close. The mere fact that he continued to so fervently look after her was a wonder. Proof that maybe the Maker hadn't turned his gaze after all. Anders was a rare man, in many ways.

"Not that I'm complaining. I much prefer walking through mud with you to being hung in the Gallows by bloody templars. Although you've been about as talkative as a Hurlock since we left Kirkwall. Good thing talking isn't your only use. Just  _looking_  at you could keep me occupied for days."

It was things like this that melted her heart. Anders was charming if nothing else, but it was so much more than charm that drew her to him and it took all the strength she had left to resist him.

"But..." a tone of mischief crept into his voice, "We are getting on a few weeks of silence now, so you may have increase your number of uses. I can only look at you for so long before my mind starts to wonder to  _other_  places."

Hawke glared at him in a way that Anders didn't know whether she was going to kiss him or kill him.

"Well, you've convinced to me to talk then. Happy?" It felt good to let anything out. Even if every word burned her lips as she spat them out.

Anders eyes lit up with insurmountable joy and surprise. Breaking her vow of silence was worth it if only for that one moment.

"Very." He couldn't help himself from grinning like a mad fool. He had won.

"Good."

"But does that mean your  _other_  uses are out of the question?" Anders was really pushing it now. Hawke let out a huff and quickened her stride.

"Is that a no? Or just a not right now?" He raised his brow as a challenge, even though he knew the answer.

Hawke refused to indulge him, for now.

"I'll take it as a maybe later."

* * *

The nights were long. Tension hung in the air heavy, both wanting to relinquish their control but neither daring to succumb to their desires. They camped in the wilderness most nights on the cold, hard ground, and thought themselves blessed when they found abandoned campsites or the even rarer abandoned hut on occasion.

Tonight they stumbled upon an abandoned slaver campsite and toke refuge there. Hawke sat by the fire, her face lit by the flame. The light licked her hair, and illuminated the beauty that she tried to keep away from him. Anders couldn't help but stare. If she wouldn't let him touch her, staring was the only thing he could do to hold back.

"Is there something wrong?" He had been caught, shamelessly staring. Her quickly averted his gaze.

"No, I just thought I saw a bug. On your face."

"Really? A bug?" She knew he could more creative than that.

"Oh look, it seems to have flown away." A quiet smirk graced her face at his blatant lie. A smile on Hawke's face was a rare thing since they had left Kirkwall. The satisfaction that he was able to make her smile again made him giddy with joy.

"You are a silly, silly man, Anders." Hawke picked up a stick, and poked the embers of the fire, it crackled and grew wilder in response.

"I never understood why you insist on making a fire without using magic." While they had been on the run Anders reveled in being able to use his magic with no fear of being seen. No need to hide his Maker given gift.

"I've always done it this way. Creating something from nothing, fire is such a fascinating thing. Simply conjuring fire and setting wood ablaze isn't nearly as satisfying as sweating and laboring just to make a spark and then see it grow."

"You never cease to surprise me, even after all these years."

"I'm glad I amuse you." Hawke continued to prod at the fire, entranced by the dance of the flames.

"I can barely hear you, why don't you come closer?" Anders was daring, since she had begun speaking again he had been trying to rekindle what he and Hawke had once shared.

"What would be the use when you can't touch me." Anders' cocked his head in confusion. Hawke reached for a bottle of Lyrium and drunk it quickly, and conjured what Anders' assumed was a protection spell to keep them safe while they slept.

" And what would prevent me from being able to touch you? Other than your knife to my throat." Anders let out a humorless laugh, but Hawke cringed at his words. "I think we both know that isn't the problem, I've had no trouble touching you in the past. C _an't_  is the appropriate word for the situation. You just  _won't_  let me touch you."

"It's not that...simple." When Anders' saw the pained look on her face, clearly fighting back tears, he regretted every bringing it up. He did not mean to cause her pain.

"I know." His voice infinitely understanding. She wasn't ready for that, although she didn't quite know why. A muddle of fear, guilt, and regret plagued her mind as well as longing, the mix of emotions was unsettling. It left her confused, the pain prevented her from being able to succumb to the ache she had for him. Somehow he was able to know all of that just by listening to the sound of her voice.

"Anders," a desperation in her voice, " _please_. I just..." His voice gently interrupted her stammering plea.

"It's alright, Hawke. I don't deserve you. I don't even deserve to look at you after what I did, let alone touch you. You don't owe me anything, least of all an explanation." He truly believed this. He believed himself unworthy, it was apparent in his gaze. Anders' regretted the fact that all their conversations always seemed to end badly. He just wanted them to be happy again, but he was beginning to doubt if that was possible.

Hawke gave a weak smile, " _Goodnight, Anders_." And with that Hawke retired to her tent, alone.

Even though she was exhausted she never slept much, and when she did it was never peaceful. It pained Anders to hear her screams in the night. They kept him awake, he shared in her pain, every cry piercing his heart.

Hawke cried out in her sleep, "I'm sorry!" Her sobs were loud and full of pain. She murmured apologies. For what, he did not know.

Hearing her cries broke Anders heart, and he could only take her pained cries for so long before he burst from his tent and ran to her. She would have never allowed him to comfort her, for him to hold her so tightly, while she was awake. The conversation the two had earlier was proof of that, she didn't even believe that he could touch her, but there he was holding her, trying to suppress her trembling body.

He didn't care if she woke to find him there, even if it meant she would resume her silence again. He couldn't bear to leave her alone like this, it was his duty to protect her. Lost in sleep and the fade, she would never know.

Anders knelt to the ground to lie beside her and pulled her to him. The bed roll was soaked in her sweat and she was shaking uncontrollably, she trembled at his touch. He wiped the tears from her eyes with his rough, calloused hands, slowly caressing her face, relishing the feeling of her skin against his.

He wished he could take her out of this, free her from her pain, but she was lost to the Fade, too lost for even him to find her and bring her back to him. He knew that much. He engulfed her body in his arms, trying to protect her, shield her from what he didn't know. Anders' knew of the terror of nightmares all too well, knowing what she suffered, and this made him tighten his grip further crushing Hawke into his chest causing her to gasp for breath. He could feel her warm breathing against his neck, short and quick, unsteady, the warmth sent jolts straight to his core. Each breath that landed on his skin a reminder of what used to be.

Knowing this was the only chance he had to soak her in Anders laid there till dawn, caressing her cheeks damp with tears, whispering comforts into her ear, whispering things he couldn't say while she was awake, secret confessions she would never hear. Anders knew that she would never remember this and the knowledge of that was why he grasped her so tightly taking advantage of her current state, while she fought her demons. It was only fair, she knew he had held her when he  _was_  a demon, when anger had transformed him and wiped his memory of her. She was not afraid of Vengeance, she was not afraid to hold Anders' body in an attempt to bring him back into control. It was only fair that he hold her now, he owed her that much.

He didn't know why he had such a great need to protect such a strong woman. Hawke could clearly take care of herself. But, her cries were quieted now and this wasn't about protecting her anymore. Now he simply held her because  _he_  needed to. He wouldn't let her go. He _couldn't_  let her go. But he felt himself slipping, wanting to wake her, it took all his will not to. She was intoxicating and he knew he had no control around her.

He sulked back to his tent, knowing that if she woke to find him lying there beside her she would surely leave him for good. Knowing that if he had stayed much longer he would've woken her up to tell her all the things he knew he couldn't, not yet at least. But...her smell, her skin still burnt into his memories, sweeter than she had ever felt before, softer than any woman should be allowed.

He was hers if she wanted him. If only she would let him hold her while she woke.

* * *

"Pass me the pack."

"What's the magic word?"

"I don't need  _words_  for magic, I can set your hair alight easily enough without them. Pass me the bloody pack." Hawke rolled her eyes. "Please."

"That's a good girl. I was going for  _'Please, my love! The only one for whom my heart beats!'_ , but that's close enough. I'll settle." He threw her a mischievous smirk.

"For now."

She never should have started talking to him again. He let it get to his head and he was getting rather gutsy with his word choice lately. Every word he said, every topic mentioned more daring than the last. Maybe he thought he was starting to break her resolve. Was he?

"I'm not a  _girl_  anymore, Anders. You should know that better than anyone."

"Oh I know, you are certainly a woman. I can  _personally_  attest to that,  _many_  times over. I just thought..." Anders looked away defeated. Possibly even angry.

Hawke rustled around in the pack for a lyrium potion and downed it in an instant. Hawke's hands lit up, consumed in blue flame, and she cast an aura around them both. The warmth and beauty of it was soothing and gave them both an unexplainable feeling of calm and serenity. Even with all Anders knowledge of magic he never could figure out what she was casting. All he knew was that she never let the spell die, it was always there. Perhaps it was protecting them from something, perhaps it was why they had run into so little confrontation. But if Hawke didn't tell him, Anders didn't dare ask.

"Maker! Must you be so cross all the time? You're starting to remind me of that Tevinter Dog, Fenris." Anders snarled at the thought of the elf. He despised how well Hawke and Fenris got along. He never cared much for Fenris, they didn't agree on much, besides the beauty and brilliance of Hawke, which only further fueled their hatred for each other.

"Really? That bad? I thought I was a least prettier than him."

"Sweetheart, you are prettier than most ever dream to be. Don't doubt that. But you're right, Maker knows I shouldn't compare you to that man. Keep brooding if you wish love, just don't rip my heart out. And keep your shoes on." Anders grunted a laugh.

"I'll do what I please with your heart. But you are right about the shoes. Crazy elves." Hawke managed a sly smile. "But truly, I am hardly like him, Anders."

Anders got quiet and serious.

"I know, you are your own woman. It's just... You are just...brooding. More than usual."

"You cannot deny that you have not been yourself, Hawke. I know you, I've known you for a very long time. And this is not you. I know this has been hard for you, but you have to let it go eventually. You need to remember how to be you again. I could teach you if you like." Anders certainly knew enough about her to teach a class on 'How to Act like of the Champion of Kirkwall'. "You are sarcastic and you spit Fereldan curses at me, but never mean them. You always win in Wicked Grace, but only because everyone lets you. I miss your highly inappropriate observations and ridiculous puns. I miss hearing you hum Fereldan tunes off key. I just miss..." Anders paused and let out a painful sigh.

"You."

"Anders, I..." Hawke let out a heavy sigh, which nearly gave her away.

"I'll...think. On what you have said. We make camp here."

Maybe Anders was right about her. Anders' ramblings and reassurances had fooled Hawke into a more cheerful disposition after that comparison. How was she always convinced so easily by him? But she didn't want to end up like Fenris after all, brooding and alone. As much as she had enjoyed Fenris' company and friendship she did not wish to become him. And after all what good did all this brooding and questioning really do, so what if she wasn't sure of herself, so what if everything was broken, brooding would fix nothing.

She was sure that she loved Anders and that was all that she needed. Maybe she could be herself again, or at least she could try.

But she still couldn't bring herself to touch him, or to call him 'love', at least aloud. She  _wanted_  to touch him, she ached for him, but she was afraid, afraid he would betray her again, afraid that his touch would be nothing more than an elaborate lie. Playful banter was all she could muster for now. And it felt good to be herself again. After all he was they only one still with her, the one who had been with her all these years. It was no use fooling him as to who she was, or fooling herself, she couldn't hide from the man she had shared so much of her life with.

So Anders won. Again.

It seemed she was in a losing battle. A battle that maybe she no longer cared to win.

* * *

The sound of laughter filled the air as they walked, the sound was almost foreign to Hawke, she had almost forgotten what the sound of her own laugh sounded like in the weeks. Happiness seemed to be possible again, to both of them, as they trekked through Thedas leaving a trail of laughter behind them. Reminiscing about simpler times, memories of old friends.

"I wonder if Varric regrets introducing us, after everything. He only warmed up to me because I was with you. He did admire you, almost every story he told you always played the hero. The strong, clever,  _beautiful_  hero. It was always 'Hawke this, and Hawke that, and then Hawke killed them all!' Much more eloquent of course, he was a true craftsman of language, not something you can say for most dwarfs. At least the ones I've encountered. Maker that Dwarf could talk! And he never could stop mentioning how beautiful you are. Probably regretted letting me stake my claim before he had his chance. It makes me a little jealous just thinking about it." He grunted a laugh, and painted his face with that signature smirk.

Hawke quickly shot him a glare, one of her glares that could've burned a hole in his heart. The kind that made him shut his mouth quick and keep quiet. It was too soon for such talk, much too soon.

He made her wonder what her companions must think of her, her running away. Did this convince them she wasn't the hero in the stories? The stories that they themselves were part of, that Varric himself told. She ran for fear. Not for herself, but for them. Not as Isabella had ran so many years ago in pure selfishness, thinking for no one but herself, running leaving behind the ashes of a city that she had helped burn to the ground. She didn't want to hurt them, or see them hurt. She removed herself from their lives so they could continue on, free of blame, free of obligation. They deserved to live. And they could do it without her, they would realize that in time.

Things  _were_  better. But sometimes when she didn't want to hear what he had to say, she drowned out the words and only listened to the hum of his voice, the rumble that emanated from his chest. It hummed and lulled her into a trance and almost made her forget herself, forget all that had transpired. Almost.

* * *

The two saw a cottage in the distance. It was beautiful, quaint, humble, more than she could have dreamed of for two revolutionists on the run. It's beauty convinced her it was time to stop, she had decided they would stay there, for good.

Hawke decided that they had walked long enough, it was time to stop running. She had been running so long, running from everything, from the chaos, the hurt, from her feelings, running from the world.

She was done running.

The realization shocked her, but Anders' was even more stunned. It seemed as if she would never stop, but he welcomed her change of heart. The surrounding area was breathtaking, there was a river near by and she saw a smoke coming from a small town near by that they could visit to get food. It was as if the Maker had arranged this himself just for her and Anders. The two quickened their pace to reach their new found paradise. Hoping it was empty. Maker,  _please,_ let it be empty.

They finally reached the cabin tucked away on the edge of woods. It was perhaps the most inviting place they had found seen in their travels, they had tried to stay away from civilization as much as possible so they never really stumble upon houses much. It was odd how the house was so distant from the nearby town. And it was empty. How could anyone ever abandoned such a perfect paradise? But they were thankful for whoever had left them their new home.

It was small, but enough. The cottage only had two rooms, the front room had a small table and a place for cooking. The back room had a modestly sized bed with a fireplace and a large bathing tub tucked behind a screen in the far corner of the room. In front of the fireplace sat a bench and an extremely luxurious rug lay directly in front of the fireplace, it seemed out of place in the company of the rest of the humble furniture. Anders' knelt down to feel how plush and soft it was against his skin. Memories of lying on a similar rug basking in the warmth of a fireplace, holding Hawke tightly in his arms flooded his thoughts.

Hawke couldn't remember what it felt like to sleep in a bed. The thought of curling under the covers in front of the fire filled her with joy. But it was cut short, realizing there was only one bed, she was reminded of the tension that still loomed between her and Anders, still she couldn't bring herself to even attempt to touch him no matter how much she wanted to. Even with all the headway they had made in attempting to fix their relationship, they had been taking things slowly, and had kept things platonic between them, on the surface at least. Want bubbled inside both of them, the only problem was Hawke's inability to admit it to Anders and to herself.

Anders' could read her thoughts by the pained look on her face, "I don't mind sleeping on the floor. My clinic was not nearly as comfy. Actually, the floor looks rather inviting. I could curl on that rug right now." How did he always know what she was thinking? Hawke could never decide if it was a good or a bad thing.

"Don't be silly. I won't let you sleep on the floor." Anders' heart leapt in his chest. Would she really allow him to share a bed with her again?

"At least not every night, we can switch." A audible sigh escaped from his mouth, and shook the thought of hope from his head. Of course she wouldn't lie with him, she wouldn't even touch him, what was he thinking? He scolded himself for thinking such foolish thoughts. Their journey was still not over, even though they had stopped running, they still had a long way to go before they were able to get back to how they once were.

* * *

The new homeowners accomplished a lot in the few hours before nightfall. They found some supplies for cleaning scrubbed the neglected floors, and tidied up the humble cottage. Anders' went to the nearby forest and collected wood for the fire and Hawke travelled to the river to stock up on water. After just a few hours of work the cottage already felt like home. As the sunset Hawke grabbed some wood and began to start a fire, while Anders watched her coax the flame sprawled across the plush rug.

They had only just started to warm themselves by the fire when Hawke heard a noise, it was distant, but it was there.

"Do you hear that?"

"Is my stomach that loud? I am pretty hungry now that you mention it."

"Well unless you want to eat darkspawn, I don't think we'll be eating dinner anytime soon."

Anders could feel it now, how had he not known before her? The taint pulsed with in him, boiled his blood. Hawke flung open the door. They both saw it now. An Ogre. And it was charging. Anders and Hawke were capable, a ferocious, vicious duo that no one dared come between. But they had no defense, mages held great power, but lacked defenses. And that Ogre was big.  _Very big_.

Her battle cry pierced the cold night air. Fierce and resilient she charged. Anders' shouted out after her, terrified by her the carelessness of her actions. All he could do was ready himself to heal her, protect her, to keep her alive at any cost.

Hawke took a moment to breathe and conjured a ring of fire that consumed it, the hulking mass engulf in flames shrieked as it burned alive. Anders' stood aside furiously casting auras to increase her defenses, quickly answering every hit the Ogre landed on Hawke with a rush of healing magic.

Hawke seemed determined to face this Ogre down, the hard way. Mages weren't meant for up close combat, and she was nearly on top of the Ogre. But she was quick, and she dodged its lunges tumbling between its legs.

She stared the beast down. This was her final test. She had to face this. She had to prove she would not run again.

Head lowered, the beast charged and knocked her to the ground, impaling her leg with its horn, inciting a desperate scream from Anders. Conjuring a glyph to paralyze the hulking menace while he rushed to heal her. But she was already back on her feet before he reached her, clearly struggling, but a resilience burned in her eyes. Fire swirled around her in whirlwind of heat, she roared as she unleashed its malice and upon the Ogre. A rain of blood and flesh rained down from the impact of the fireball. Only a pile of burning limbs were left of beast. She had beat it.

Hawke fell to the ground exhausted, blood pooling around her leg. For a moment Anders' was paralyzed by awe, she felled the creature almost purely on her own, with a primal force he had never seen within her.

The Ogre may have been beaten, but it had given her a good fight; she was weak from her wounds and exhaustion, the world started to spin, she was losing blood quickly. She hissed with pain, clearly unable to walk.

The sounds of her pain snapped Anders' back into reality and he leapt to her side and swept her up with little, cradling her in his arms rushing her into the cottage. He was amazed that she didn't protest at his touch, but she didn't really have much of a choice. Blood poured from a gaping wound where the Ogre's horn had impaled her thigh.

Anders' gingerly laid her down on the bed.

"May I?" He motioned to her robes, drenched in her blood. He would need to remove her robes and directly touch her skin to heal her. Touching her again, something he had dreamed of, but had hoped would be under better circumstances.

Hawke gritted her teeth, and nodded quickly.

He gently lifted her robes, pulling them over, slowly exposing every part of her, vulnerable. Any thought of arousal was pushed away by the thought of losing her. The gash in her leg made him wince, the wound was jagged and very deep, gushing blood. He had seen worse, but the fact that it was  _her_  pained him. He tossed her robes to the side, and tenderly brushed the sticky hair from her forehead. Why did the first time she allowed him to touch her in weeks have to be while she was bleeding to death? He refused to let this be the last time he felt her skin against his, she had to live. Living without her was not an option.

An intense glow emanated from his hands, an attempt to sooth her pain. His hands trembled with fear and desperation, just over her skin. Now was not the time for hesitation, she would bleed out and die if he did not act quickly. Forcing his hands onto her skin, she let out a gasp. Whether it was from the pain, or something else, he couldn't tell. He hands slid across her flesh pulsing with healing magic, stopping the blood pouring from her.

"Maker, please don't let her die. Not now."

Her eyelids fluttered, she was treading on the edge of consciousness. His fingertips knitted the skin under them together in a mad rush. The wound was tender now, but it was healed to the best of his ability. He sat next to her on the bed, whispering what ever incantations into her ear he could think of to ease her pain, and bring her to back to him. Stroking her hair and searching her for any other wounds that needed attending to. Pressing his hands into her broken and bruised ribs attempting to mend them, Hawke let out a scream and jerked her body, only causing her to scream out again from the pain in the rest of her body.

"Maker! Be gentle." Hawke yelped.

"I'm trying."

"You shouldn't have done that, thrown yourself in front of that ogre. You are lucky he didn't crush your skull."

"I don't need to be reminded of the dangers of throwing myself in front of Ogre, Anders. I know, and I know the repercussions all to well."

"Of course, Bethany. I forgot, I'm...sorry."

"Don't be, that..." Anders could her the catch in her voice. She was only human after all, no matter what the stories said. "That was a long time ago."

The expression on Hawke's face hardened,

"I had to do it. It challenged me. It challenged everything we have worked for." She was clearly talking about something more than just it's bloodlust. The threat it posed was a symbol to her, it was everything that stood between her and her life before,  _their_  life before.

Anders' stood there in confusion at her cryptic declaration. Not quite understanding her meaning.

"It's ok to run sometimes, Hawke."

"No." She was firm in this declaration. "I'm done running. I can't run from this anymore."

"Running from what? We've been out of reach of the Templars for weeks now, so what have we been running from this whole time?" He was practically shouting. He hated not knowing what she was thinking. His confusion twisted into anger.

"And why stop now?" The look she gave him told him everything.

A wave of understanding swept through him. Her eyes were telling him everything he needed to know. More than any words could say. They hadn't been running away from assassins or, Sebastian, or the Templars. They had been running from her pain, the memories, trying to escape the love she still had for him, but that caused her so much pain. And now she had stopped.

His heart nearly stopped beating at the realization it might mean that she was ready to let herself love him again.

Let him touch her again. Let their lips crash together. Let their bodies entwine in a passion that would drown out any pain or fear that tried to claim them.

"Do...Do you..." Anders voice cracked. For once he seemed speechless. The words stuck in his throat.

"What? Do I what?" Hawke pleaded.

"Do you still love me?" Anders looked away, ashamed, with a sadness in his eyes that Hawke was all too familiar with. His blood pumped with fear and excitement.

"I know what I did, and I know it wasn't fair to you, but I did it for us. I didn't expect things to go back to the way they were afterwards. I lied to you, betrayed you. I'm a monster, I was  _never_  worthy of your love, especially now. But I can't keep myself from you." Anders looked at her with longing in his eyes. She had stared into those eyes for hours, maybe days in the many years they had been together. Now they burnt with a desperation and longing that melted her. This time he left the decision up to her, he dare not take the initiative the same way he did they shared their first kiss in the clinic so many years ago.

Now _she_ reached out for him. "Anders,"

Hesitant, shaking. Dizzy from fear, her thoughts telling her it was impossible to touch him, and her body rebelling against them. Hands ghosting just over his face, clearly driving him mad. Leaning towards him, painfully slow, her lips sat directly in front of his barely touching, whispering "I never stopped."

"Neither have I."

It was her choice when their lips collided. The spark when their lips met, so controlled. Hawke's lips still tingled when they met his. How could a man who so often overcome with so much rage that it stripped him of all control, be so gentle?

At first it was slow, languid caresses, lips grazing over each other in disbelief of their actions.

But when their eyes met, the gentle passion turned into something else entirely, a hunger. It grew in both of their eyes, like a wild fire, and soon they were devouring each other, limbs in a tangled mess, bodies pressed against each other. Wanting, needing, grasping to make up for all the time lost.

Anders looked down from his place above her, finally realizing her body was still uncovered from when he had healed her, vulnerable to his gaze. And now he was able to take it in and appreciate it as deserved. His eyes burned over her body, setting Hawke skin on fire from the need in his gaze.

Trying his damnedest to keep in control to not hurt her he ran his mouth down her, tasting her. Going from her lips, down her throat to her chest, causing Hawke to gasp and writhe clawing at the sheets. He grasped her hips with both hands, firmly, but not tight enough to hurt her. Her hips bucked upwards at this, he replied by putting one of his hands to better use, causing her to scream out. It had been so long, and the pleasure overwhelmed both of them. While Hawke thrust wildly into his hand, Anders nipped at her sides, driving her mad with pleasure. With every gasp, every cry she let out Anders grew more intense, more ravenous. His need overflowing.

Standing up to remove his clothing, Hawke sat up watching him at first, her eyes savoring every bit of his flesh as it was slowly revealed. As he stared her down while he slowly removed his robes, revealing more and more of his form. Hawke removed what was left of her clothes, leaving her fully vulnerable, then she pulled him to her at the edge of the bed. Now his chest was bare, nothing left but his small clothes.

She stood to present herself to him, and he leaned down to take her lips, stealing a kiss before she left the haven of his mouth to leave a trail of soft kisses down to the top of his waist, feeling him tremble as she moved further down until she reached the top of his trousers and peeled them off of him. His need now exposed, both beheld each other completely naked. Hawke looking up at him from her knelt position, she grazed a finger over her pelvic bone causing him to let out a deep groan, knowing what she was doing. She had done this many times before, in a different bed, in a different time. Her plan was followed and she took her in her mouth quickly.

"Hawke!" He couldn't help, but yell out as she ravished him with her tongue, using magic to turn it hot and cold, teasing him into oblivion. It was all he could do to keep from bursting. He had to keep control, tried to stay still, but his body demanded him move. No longer able to keep himself from her, he forced himself out of her and pulled her to her feet to take her lips. Both their bodies pressed against each other with nothing and between them the feel of each other's skin was enough to drive both of them over the edge.

Unable to hold back any longer Anders seized her, pushing her down onto the bed and pulling her hips toward him to take her, driven out of control, the intensity causing them to combust, a brilliant blaze engulfing them. Without abandon Anders steadily thrust into her, Hawke answering every movement with her own. Gasping at every move he made. Her pain completely overcome by an overflow of pleasure. Anders slowed a bit, not wanting to lose this moment so fast, and began to whisper into Hawke's ear words that reminded her of why she fell in love with him so many years ago. Why she could still love him after all that had transpired. Now they moved in a gentle rhythm, more intimate. They searched each other's eyes for who they once were. They were finding each other again. Rediscovering what both thought was lost forever.

Anders momentum increased slowly, and the two toke stole every kiss they could in between gasps and thrusts. Hawke's breath quickened and Anders responded. Both hastened their movements, both not wanting it to end, but desperate for a release. Anders growled into Hawke's ear, his thrusts more insistent, pushing deeper, harder, until both of them exploded simultaneously in a burst of enormous pleasure.

Anders lay on top of her, both each exhausted and panting, covered in sweat, smelling of each other, and dizzy from pleasure. He gently pressed a kiss against her lips, whispering into her mouth "I love you." He had told her that with every movement he had made that night. Every touch, every caress told her he truly loved her.

Overwhelmed by emotion, tears suddenly coated her cheeks, "I didn't think I would ever touch you again. Feel you again, I didn't think it was possible."

"Hawke, nothing could keep me from you." Gently kissing her forehead.

"Not even death itself."

This only caused Hawke to cry harder. Anders cradled her head into her chest. Whispering comforts into her ear until they both fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Anders watched her while she slept, her chest softly rising and falling, soaking in every bit of her he could get. He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck and breathed her in, no longer having to rely on the memory of her scent. He watched her eyes flutter, she was breathtakingly beautiful. He placed a gentle kiss on both her eyelids and Hawke let out a gentle sigh. He pulled her close, for fear she would wake and regret everything and abandon him for good.

He uttered under his breath "Maker, you're beautiful. I don't deserve you."

He watched her for hours before she stirred. Hawke slowly opened her eyes, waking up to Anders lovingly stroking her hair. The feel of his fingers sliding through her locks was comforting, his gentle stroking coaxing her to lean further into his touch.

"Will you ever forgive me?" Anders eyes pleaded. Even after Hawke's reassurances of love he couldn't believe that this meant he forgave her, how could she. But she surprised him, as she always did.

"I forgave you a long time ago, Anders. I just never forgave myself."

"For what, love?" His voice was breathy and  _too_  kind.

"For killing you."

She looked at him caressed his face, her eyes brimming with tears, as he faded away at her touch.

The specter of Anders faded and the charade was over.

_The memories of that day came flooding back, she was forced to remember what she had truly done, what she worked so hard to forget, to mask in illusion. His betrayal, his eyes, his anger, his rage. Anders sat there waiting for his death, for her to take him, to free him, he wanted to die for this. He needed to. He waited for his love deliver his death, expecting nothing else of her, and she did. As she slid the dagger between his ribs and as his blood began to pool she lost her last shred of her sanity and plunged into the abyss of madness._

_And as she walked away the man she loved toke his last breath. She killed him._

This was the truth, what she was really running from, the truth of what she had done. And now it had caught up to her.

Sobs wracking her body, She grasped for the last bottle of lyrium to re-conjure his image, to force herself to forget that he was ever gone, as she had been doing for so long. To replace her reality for one where he still breathed, but the flask was empty.

She clawed at her own face, screamed back the pain of losing him for a second time.

She was alone again,  _as she always was_ , as she always would be.

 


End file.
